


Ocean Eyes of Yours

by fmart203



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmart203/pseuds/fmart203
Summary: Natasha Romanoff is continually haunted by her past in the Red Room, and it seems that Maria Hill is the only one who can shake her out of her nightmare.





	Ocean Eyes of Yours

The tang of anomia hits her first. Russian words dance past her, and they are puppet strings that circle her and tie her up until she cannot breathe. Cobwebs and rats and moldy sheets and blood and sweat and the dirty, bony feet of broken girls taunt her as she tries to reach for them all, flying past her like a film roll. Her heart screams inside her, banging against her rib cage, begging to be let out. A cascade of words and sounds and laughter blended together into an incomprehensible mess that pulls for her sanity.  
And then, it stops.  
A white room with the windows open, silk curtains billowing as the eternal golden Russian summer sun set in the distance.   
Peace. A place her mind would go, when she felt desperate. It was a home, for her mind to escape. Isolate and recharge. She hasn't seen it in years.   
The crackle of a fire hits her ears, and as she sharply turns around, she is greeted with the sight of a roaring fire.   
The burning flames quickly engulf the whole room. It pulls down the structure, makes it collapse like her childhood. All she sees is red, red, red. Red until the day she dies, red like her veins. Like the wine that she drinks, the dresses that she wears, the pens she writes with. An inescapable color, an inescapable past.   
“Nat! Nat! Tasha!”  
She feels someone's hands grip her shoulders, shaking her.   
She turns her head, and sees blue. The crystal blue eyes of Maria Hill, flecked with gold in the center, and grey on the edges.   
“I need to go back to Russia.” Someone says it, it doesn't sound like her, the voice is far too horse and accented.  
Vomit rapidly makes its way up her throat. Knowing there is no way to suppress it, she rolls her head so it's hanging over the side of the bed.  
It falls out of her like a waterfall, and she can barely feel it, but clutches her stomach anyways and cringes at the thought of the aftertaste.   
The last thing she sees is the chunky beige of the vomit on the floor as she feels herself drop, and then hears a loud thump.  
She doesn't know when she regains consciousness. She doesn't even know she lost it. All she knows is she wakes to the sound of someone softly humming a sweet melody.  
A hand stroking her face, her body covered by a soft linen sheet. Her head in someone's lap.  
“Maria?” She asks, and this time it's her voice.  
“Yes, Nat?”  
She opens her eyes, and is greeted with Maria's small soft smile. A rare occurrence.  
It's still night, and the moonlight filters into the room from the cracks in the blinds. She can distantly hear the humming of crickets and the call of birds.  
“What the HELL happened?”   
A small chuckle from Maria's end.  
“You're sick, Nat.”  
“I don't get sick.”  
“Well, you just did. All over my carpet, actually.”  
“Oh fuck,” she groans, as the dread and realization of the moment sets in. “I did, didn't I?”  
“Yep.”  
“I'm so sorry.”  
She attempts to get up, but Maria pushes her down.   
“I already cleaned it up, no need to worry. You should probably get to sleep.”  
The thought of sleeping through another Red Room induced nightmare fills her with fear.  
“I'd rather not.”  
“Rough night, huh.”  
“They all are.”  
“I know,” Maria says compassionately as she brings her head down to kiss Nat.   
“Do you want me to get you an Advil?”   
“That would be great,” Nat murmured, suddenly aware of the throbbing headache she had.  
Maria is back a few minutes later with an Advil and a glass of water. She hands them both off to Natasha.  
As Nat swallows them, Maria climbs back into bed. She waits until the other woman is done before pulling her close, intertwining her hands through Nat's fiery red hair and untangling it.   
“You complete me.”  
“I know.”  
“Jackass.”  
“That's fair.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the short little one shot! I'm always open to constructive criticism, especially since I often feel that my diaglouge does not accurately reflect the characters. The title was inspired by lyric from "They Stay Down Deep" by Giselle.


End file.
